Fire and Water
by BohemianTypewriter
Summary: Farid returns to Roxane's farm, to confess to Dustfinger that despite his time spent searching he has still not found an apprentice. Dustfinger has the perfect solution...or so he thinks.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Fire and water don't really mix. You could say they're incompatible. But when they do love each other, they love passionately. -Dustfinger

Dustfinger stared out into the morning sky. His sandy hair was still ruffled from sleep, but his eyes were restless as they travelled over the sky, with its clusters of pink-tinged clouds, his mind automatically predicting what sort of weather the day would bring. It had been a while since he had to worry about things like rain or hail, because they simply did not have enough influence on his life anymore for him to worry about them. The realization evoked a sudden longing in him, a longing for the old days-wandering from village to village to showcase his fire-breathing skills, sleeping in a tent the Strolling Players' Camp, wandering the marketplace of Ombra, nights spent under a canopy of thick leaves, rain soaking into him, foraging around for food (both in the Wayless Woods and in its inhabitants' homes)...and the boy. Thousands of memories of a past life.

Time heals all wounds, but it couldn't erase Dustfinger's memories of Farid. He hadn't expected the boy to become so dear to him when he had accepted Farid as his apprentice, nor had he expected to miss him so much when he was gone. As Farid had decided to simply "go away for a while".

He could still remember when Farid had told him that he was leaving-because he'd known to preserve this image of Farid in his mind, telling him of his plans, another memory he could hold in his fingers and look over like an old photograph, perfectly preserved. He remembered their serious discussion about how Farid was now ready to pass his skills on to someone else. The boy had stared at him so anxiously, as if trying to work out if Dustfinger would miss him when he was gone-oh, he was too easy to read. Dustfinger however had had plenty of practice in wiping his face clean of emotion, and he had done just that.

The boy was probably doing well-his skills sometimes surpassed Dustfinger's, and he was sensible enough to not throw money at luxuries. A lifetime spent shoveling camel dung and never having enough to eat had ensured that he would always treat silver and food with sense, despite his lighthearted and rather flighty nature.

He wondered how Meggie was coping with being away from Farid.

He sighed, but told himself sternly that he had chosen to stay with Roxane. Those ten years in that other world, of belonging to no one, were enough to convince him to stay with his wife-and Roxane herself still clung to him like ivy to a tree. With mutual consent, they stayed together. Dustfinger skimmed a hand over his hair, imagining the grey that would soon appear in the pale strands. He was older now-his days were numbered. This is the place where he would die, and his remains would linger forever, like the smell of something burning, which even the strongest of winds could not blow away.

Behind him lay Roxane's farmhouse, and within its stony walls he could hear the sounds of her awake and in the kitchen, preparing for another day of work in the fields, Jehan standing behind her with a serious expression on his childish face. He turned around, ready to go back into the farmhouse and accept his breakfast from Roxane. That was when he heard the voice.

His name, called out in a voice so achingly familiar, and for the briefest of moments that voice was almost as beautiful as Silvertongue's...but only because Dustfinger loved the owner of that voice. Perhaps Dustfinger's own thoughts had summoned him here.

Farid.

"Farid?" asked Dustfinger in disbelief. The boy was older, taller, and his hair seemed a little less unruly than he remembered-but the eyes, the dark black eyes were precisely the same. That was the general impression, of course, before Farid flung his still-thin arms around Dustfinger in a crushing hug, even though he knew Dustfinger didn't like that.

"By all the fairies, I'd forgotten how exuberant you can be," Dustfinger complained, even though his spirits were soaring. Farid was back! He realized he'd never actually given up on the hope to see him again. "That'll do."

The boy drew away, a predictably embarrassed look on his face. Some things never change.

"Sorry," he said breathlessly. "I'm just so happy to see you! I was hoping you'd be here, although I was worried you had moved somewhere else, because they have the oaks felled on the edges of the Wayless Woods and I thought maybe Roxane was growing her herbs there because the soil was much better there than here, and the berries grow so well..." Farid carried on babbling, and started talking about everything he'd been up to in the stretch of time he'd disappeared for.

This continued for several minutes with Dustfinger listening intently, if somewhat amused, at the stories tripping from Farid's tongue, sometimes just a string of meaningless gibberish when he got too excited, telling him about the show he'd put on some old lord who'd paid him how much, the applause he'd received from which crowd in what marketplace, what new tricks he'd learned and perfected.

In the meantime, Dustfinger thoroughly examined Farid, weighing his health and happiness like a father would-and wasn't that exactly how he felt sometimes? The boy wasn't dressed in the traditional fire-eaters' clothes, and the shirt and pants he was wearing weren't exactly the cleanest-but he didn't look bad. His hair was neater though-he must have cut it fairly recently. His backpack was still there, with the bags he, in imitation of Dustfinger, separately kept his trade secrets in. And of course, the marten was still there. Jink. Dustfinger could only tell by the bushy tail emerging from Farid's backpack, flicking absently. All in all, the boy looked healthy, and there didn't seem to be anything bothering him.

Suddenly his back stiffened and he glared over Dustfinger's shoulder. Oh dear...

Of course it was Roxane. Farid was still throwing daggers at her; presumably he was still jealous of her. He was jealous of everyone who had a claim on Dustfinger's heart, no matter who they were. Roxane didn't seem to mind his scorching gaze, looking straight at Farid, her grey-streaked black hair brushed glossy and pinned back from her forehead, despite the early hour. She looked old, but she was still stunning.

"Oh, I see you're back," she observed. "More bad news, I presume?" Roxane asked, looking inquiringly at Dustfinger, who turned his gaze to Farid. "No. No bad news, for once," he said defiantly, and perhaps it was only Dustfinger who noticed the brief hesitation before Farid spoke.

"I expect we'll feed you, nevertheless," said Roxane. "Even though you still don't look half starved."She turned and walked to the farmhouse without looking back, stiff backed and erect.

"She still hates me!" Farid observed, looking wounded. "I really don't understand what you see in her. She is so mean!" he finished.

"Nonsense," said briskly. "It's you who doesn't like her, and you're just imagining that she reciprocates that. I believe she still thinks you're my son, no matter how hard I try to convince her you're not."

Dustfinger held up his wrist, the inside of which was very pale and refused to darken. He then held up Farid's, burnt brown by the blazing sun in his world. "We are from different places," said Dustfinger, just to see how the boy would react.

"But I still belong to you!" Of course. Like he'd said, some things never changed.

"Well, maybe," said Dustfinger, smiling. "But let's go inside and let Roxane feed us."

Several minutes and a meal later, Farid and Dustfinger were alone in the farmhouse. Roxane had taken Jehan outside to help her rake her flowerbeds, and they wouldn't be back for several hours. Dustfinger had offered to watch Farid put on a show especially for his teacher, but the boy had refused, and was absently scratching the table with his fingernail. After some time of this, Dustfinger couldn't stand it anymore. "Spit it out," he commanded suddenly.

"What?" Farid asked, looking bewildered.

"Come along, what's the matter? You've been acting like a moonstruck ferret all this time. Is there something you have to say? If so, spit it out. I can't stand to see you just sitting there not saying anything. Usually I have to try and get you to close your mouth." Farid blinked at this sudden outburst from the usually reserved Dustfinger.

"All right then," said Farid, taking a deep breath. "I didn't find an apprentice."

"Why not? Wasn't there anyone to your liking, anyone who caught your eye? Any one of the girls who look at you in the markets?"

"Those girls were plain stupid," spat Farid, an untold story lingering behind his words. "Acting silly and pretending to be interested just to talk to me and waste my time. The boys," he added, rolling his eyes, "Were even worse. All they wanted was an easy life and something that made them more attractive to the girls."

"Well, what were you expecting to get? You don't have much choice. You should've chosen someone and not been so fussy. After all, you were a highly disagreeable boy when I picked you up. And look at how brilliant you are now."

"I want someone dedicated, someone who cares about more than just what they can get by having me teach them, and cares more about what they could offer the world. Someone proud of their abilites. Someone who loves fire as much as you and I do."

Loves fire...a thought came into his mind, vague at first, but taking clearer shape as he envisioned a face like his own, hair like his own, but black eyes like Roxane...

Of course, thought Dustfinger. The obvious solution! Pride, sense, dedication, determination, passionate, fire loving...who did he know who fit all those requirements? His daughter. Brianna.

Who better to learn to tame fire than the Fire Dancer's own daughter?


	2. Chapter 2

Roxane looked at him incredulously. Dustfinger could tell she disapproved, but she only said, "I've sent Jehan to the castle to find Brianna, but I doubt she'll accompany him back."

Brianna's relations with her family were now much better than they had used to be. With Meggie and Silvertongue and Brianna's own memories of Orpheus as proof, Dustfinger had explained to his daughter where he had been during those long ten years, and she had forgiven him. Brianna was still attracted to palace life, but she dined occasionally with her parents. She was still poised, sometimes cool, and Dustfinger could tell that things would never be the same between him and his daughter due to his long absence-and face it, he had never been much of a devoted father before anyway. When he watched his beautiful daughter and saw how much older and prettier she had become, he bitterly regretted having being forced away from her when she was a little five year old girl. He wished he had been a father she could look up to and admire, rather than a man she disliked and occasionally hated. Another reason to dislike Silvertongue, no matter how closely they were linked after their passage through Death. Maybe if she appreciated fire she would begin to appreciate her father too.

"Thank you," he told Roxane, who was still observing him with wary eyes. "There's no need to look so suspicious. I only want to ask her something, and see if she'll approve. Didn't you say she was losing interest in the Castle?"

"Yes, ever since Her Kindliness became too busy with her duties to spend time with her. But I don't think she's ready to leave the castle yet!"

"She doesn't have to. But I want her to be able to make the choice."

Roxane tilted her head and stared hard at him, as if searching for truth in his expressionless eyes. "I didn't think you cared about her anymore."

"I never stopped," replied Dustfinger. "For instance, did you stop loving her when she left to live in the castle with Her Kindliness?"

Roxane shook her head. "She's my daugher."

"She's mine too."

Brianna dismounted from the chestnut mare, landing solidly on both feet, her agility showing how often she had done that before. As she tied the mare to a post, she searched in the saddlebags to find an apple and fed it to Sasha. She listened to the crunching of Sasha's teeth as stared towards the lonely farmhouse, remembering what Jehan had told her.

"The Fire-Dancer wants to see you! He wants to know if you want to be apprenticed. I know that's not allowed, but he says what he wants you to learn can be taught to girls too! Isn't that strange?"

What could it be, she wondered idly. What could he suggest to her? Didn't he know what she thought of him, how she knew perfectly well that he couldn't be trusted? He thought she'd forgiven him. Of course not. How could she forgive him, after how he'd left her and her mother alone for a decade? How could she just pretend that those years had never happened, like he was asking her to?

It was just too hard.

She still loved him, though, because he was her father. She would always love him, no matter how obnoxious she acted in front of him or the acidic glances she threw his way. No matter what, she would always love him. Brianna ground her teeth in frustration. She was always giving her love to the wrong men.

He was coming. A figure approached her, and Brianna straightened up, knowing that it was her father. She pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin, pushing a superior look on her face. And that was when she noticed the man was not Dustfinger.

Not Dustfinger? Then who could he be? Fear rose in her throat and she tried to mount Sasha in case the man was a thief...or something worse. She was about to scramble up when she realized she recognized the man. It was her father's apprentice. It was Farid. And then she realized what Jehan had meant. She stared incredulously at Farid, while he looked back at her with the same disbelief.

"You?"

"Dustfinger!" Farid shouted, angrily. "Dustfinger!"

"Father?" Brianna screamed, just as furiously.

Suddenly Dustfinger stepped into the room, hands held up in surrender. He demanded, "What's all the shouting about? I thought you were being attacked by bandits!"

"This is who you say is the best?" Farid shouted, thrusting his finger towards Brianna. "She wouldn't last one day in the Wayless Woods! She doesn't have the right kind of mindset!"

"Fire eating is what you intended me to learn, of all things? Have you considered that I may not want to follow your footsteps, dear father?"

" Your daughter is practically a princess, how do you expect her to cope and learn fire eating? Just look at that ridiculous skirt! One spark and she'll be burned to a crisp."

"Isn't this just for your son, possibly sons? Not something you're supposed to teach your daughter? You have no respect for me-"

"Enough!" Dustfinger bellowed, loud enough to shock the two teenagers into silence.

"Farid, when you gave me your fussy list of requirements, the best person I could find was my daughter, and she is more than capable! She has everything you could possibly want! Brianna, I am not forcing you to follow my footsteps! Believe me, it's the last thing I want! I still believe you are the one who is perfect for Farid to teach, and the best. You yourself said that you would prefer a change from the castle. This won't take as long as either of you think!"

There was a pause as the two digested this. Dustfinger seized the chance. "Believe me, I know you two and what is good for you, no matter how much you may want to deny it. Brianna, you are now Farid's apprentice. Farid, I expect you to look after her, and Brianna you are expected to reciprocate that. Goodbye."

Dustfinger turned around abruptly, leaving the confused boy and girl behind.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a week since Dustfinger had decided who Farid's apprentice was going to be. Despite how much Farid admired Dustfinger, he still felt simmering resentment at the fact that he had not gotten to choose his own apprentice. And he knew that if he had, he would most certainly have not chosen a girl.

And definitely not Dustfinger's daughter.

He had only seen her a few times, and Farid's impression of Brianna was not a good one. She had seemed graceful and she was very charming to look at, but there was a haughtiness on her face and in her mannerisms that Farid did not like at all. Brianna didn't seem to be capable of living the way Farid and Dustfinger did-foraging for their money and food, entertaining people, camping in the woods for weeks. However, Brianna had been a dancer like her mother, so he presumed she might know a little about how they lived-but the fact that she had quit showed that she was not happy with being Farid's apprentice. To be honest, he was surprised that she had agreed to learn from him, because she didn't seem to care about a strolling player's life at all.

Right now, Farid was sitting at the end of a stream, wrapping the fire honey he had so carefully collected in fresh leaves. He put the piece carefully in his pocket and as he turned around, he saw Brianna emerging from the shady branches of an overhanging elm. "I thought I was supposed to be learning."

Farid shrugged off his annoyance. "Yes, but we need to eat while we're at that, too." He came over to her and from her hands, he took the rabbits that she had wrestled from a snare Farid had set. He put them aside. "But I can teach now."

"Very well," she said, a touch of ice in her voice. "Begin." She sounded as if she was addressing a servant. Farid curled his lip. Without a word he strode over to the side of the stream, and picked up the two roughly-hewn oak staffs he had placed there. The contorted bark was shining with the excrement from the water nymphs' scales, a thick layer to defend the hands of the fire eater from fire. He handed one of the sticks to Brianna, who held it gingerly, and held the other himself.

"Hold it up," said Farid, falling smoothly into a practiced position, with the staff held upwards and at an angle away from his body, pointing towards the sky. Brianna observed him, and then positioned herself in a way similar to him, but more decently, her legs closer together, her body straighter. Farid cursed himself inwardly. "She's a girl...she'll have to adapt every thing so that it's appropriate. I should've thought of that," he thought ruefully. He had to admit she had adapted well and her pose was lovely. She had been a dancer, after all, and some of her grace still remained.

Farid straightened himself and pulled some matches from his pocket. "Don't be afraid," he said, and without waiting for an answer, he set the staff on fire.

"Oh my God!" Horrified, Brianna threw the burning staff away from herself. Her face was filled with terror as she backed away. Farid jumped forwards and quenched the flames with his boot, and then he turned on Brianna. "Are-you-crazy!" He demanded.

"What is wrong with you? That thing was going to set me on fire!"

Farid snorted. "The flame was too small to harm you at all. Throwing it on the ground...Brianna, you could have set the entire forest aflame!" Looking at the now charred stick, he sighed. "Maybe we should practice without fire." Farid mumbled to himself. "Get back into the position again," he said, handing her his own staff. Brianna glared at him but she obeyed.

"Now, twirl it, spin it round at round. The point is that when it's on fire, the brightness will catch a person's eye and the more rapidly you spin it, the better it looks." Dustfinger had done a much better job when he explained that to Farid.

Brianna wrapped her fingers tighter around the staff, and began to spin it. Finger to finger to finger, stop.

Finger to finger to finger-drop.

Farid shook his head as Brianna scrambled to pick the stick up again. She repeated the action-and dropped the stick. The staff spun away from her fingers and struck her side, hard. She gritted her teeth, but picked up the stick again.

Farid frowned and shook his head. "We're done for today." He turned and walked away from Brianna, and he didn't look back.

Brianna scowled at his retreating figure. It was her first day, why did he have to be so hard on her? He had done this a million times ago, but she had never! And, she realized, she did not like it. She did not enjoy having to learn to play with fire at all.

In her mind, she imagined her father's disappointed face as she told him that she could not learn fire. That she did not plan to. I can, she thought, but I simply don't plan to.

Who was she kidding? She had failed abysmally at the task Farid had set her. She was not good at it. It was the first time Brianna had failed at something.

"I will learn how, dammit!" Brianna swore. She picked up the stick and tried again, and felt tears sting her eyes when she failed. And picked up the stick again, trying harder and harder without knowing that Farid's eyes were on her the whole time.

Farid stepped forwards. He had been watching the girl try and twirl the stock for an hour, and still she had not succeeded. Brianna had turned away, her head down, and a waterfall of pale red hair had slipped from the pins holding it back and slanted like a curtain around her face. She didn't look at him, and he realized how ashamed she really was-Brianna looked everyone in the eye, even if it was Her Kindliness.

Farid awkwardly patted her shoulder, which was when he noticed a bruise on her elbow. He reached out and tugged her sleeve further up her arm. Trailing her skin, like a string of fine violet jewels, was a chain of bruises. He lightly trailed his finger over her skin, and she flinched away, showing Farid how deep the bruises really were. Brianna shook her head and wiped her eyes. "I'll never learn."

Farid bit his lip. A part of him had enjoyed watching her fail, again and again, deepening his feeling of superiority towards her. Now, he just felt as miserable as she did. "Try again," he encouraged. Brianna didn't resond as he picked up the stick and closed her fingers on it. Farid stepped behind her, and guided her hand through the motions.

Brianna stepped into position, and without a single mistake, she twirled the stick. Perfectly.

A slow smile, like a crack in an eggshell, broke over her face at her accomplishment. She looked as proud as Farid himself had once felt.

"That was amazing," said Farid.

Farid was struck by how much of Dustfinger he could see in the shape of her eyes, in the light of her smile.


End file.
